[maikafanawen]

A harried, incredulous Kent Avershire leaned on the edge of the table in his cabin, rubbing his hands frantically through his disheveled hair. Delf Pora, the captain of the Pora Diy, stood tall and stiff in front of the door, his only remaining mate supported by a cane slouched on his right hand side. Meri lingered near the back of the room and kept silent as the captains canvassed of terms to be settled between them concerning the problem of what to do with all the men about the corsair ship and the ship itself.

"My men would never serve under a Gondorian," Pora asserted firmly, "though I wish they would for their lives' sake."

"You are their captain until the paper is signed, make them!" Avershire demanded. "It is against everything I've ever known to sink a whole crew with their ship. Never has this been done by a mortal man of his own choosing; any seafarers that were destroyed along with their ship were condemned by the gods! I haven't the power to destroy so many men… I haven't the will--"

"If you let them live you're endangering your crew!" Meri interjected, "what little you have left!" Avershire buried his face in his hands as he thought. So many hardheaded men, fighting for a cause they believed so strongly in. He didn't want that sort of blood on his hands. But he paid dearly with lives of his own crew. They'd lost nearly twenty of their original sixty-nine plus there were a good number wounded. It was going to be difficult to sail the North Wind with the remaining men, some of which were in no real shape to work a ship. He was counting on the recruit of Pora Diy sailors who would work under the whip of his men. Avershire let a lingering sigh and fixed his gaze on the proud face of Delf Pora.

"I am going to address the prisoners and give them the option of life aboard my ship as members of the crew. They will sleep separately from my original crew and eat separately. At all times some of my men will harbor watch over them. I cannot guarantee the quality or quantity of their food but I will recognize the fact that they are human beings not animals. On the other hand they are offered a sailor's death, their choosing, hanging, beheading, or drowning if they so desire." He suppressed a shiver before continuing on. "If they choose to join my crew let it known that they will recognize me as captain and--" he paused looking at Pora, hoping he would understand the penalty of being a conquered captain. "Well, the necessary and appropriate action will be taken."

Delf nodded. "Would you have me offer the proposal to them?"

"Aboard Captain Avershire's ship, the only one offering proposals is him!" Meri's outburst shocked them all. "Do not assume--"

"Enough!" Avershire roared. His face was a thundercloud when he turned to his first mate. It was difficult enough for him to be faced with such a decision and he was certainly not in the mood to tolerate Meri's prejudice. "If you cannot hold neither your tongue nor your temper you are ordered to remove yourself and return when your nerves have settled into some sense!" Furious, the woman stormed from the room, taking care in slamming the door with all her strength so that the table shook, scattering its maps and the pictures on the wall rattled and the ceiling lamps swayed. "Damn her," Avershire cursed. He rubbed agitatedly at his forehead wishing away the terrible headache he'd came by. "Hahnn!" he called for the cook. After a few seconds the little man appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray with two mugs of steaming coffee on it and half a loaf of bread.

"I was just on my way when you bellowed," he said. He placed the tray on the table and nodded to both captains. "A little breakfast," and then he left. Avershire gestured for Pora to help himself to the coffee and bread and took up his own black brew drinking steadily. When half of it was gone he set it on the table and sat down and waited as the corsair ate and drank what he had been offered.

Avershire wondered if all of Doran's co-captains had such polished manners as Captain Delf Pora. The man was very tall, the tallest he'd seen, with dark coloring like that of the corsairs. He wore the tattoos of a pirate branded up his arms and around his neck, even creeping up the sides of his jaw. Pora had an imperious air about him and was powerfully plain-featured with his dark, sunken eyes, a look that allowed him to assume his position with physical confidence and immediate respect at the outstart. It was no wonder if his crew was willing to die for their captain and his cause.

"I think it would be better for me to exercise my authority if I offered the...options," Avershire said, breeching the silence. Delf Pora was silent for a moment and then nodded. The two captains faced each other for a moment, respecting the silent understanding between them and then Avershire rose, extending his hand. "I wish there was another way."




Devon woke, groggy and disoriented, looking up into the glistening face of Mr. Sedal. The surgeon's lips moved, giving direction for Orda to bring more tea. "He's awake again. Hold his mouth open." Hot water with a vague flavor of exotic herbs trickled down his throat and he coughed and spurted. "Hold on Devon, you've got to take it. There you go." The room swam and pitched. The young man rolled over onto the right side of his body and heaved. The boy moved quick with a bucket and caught most of it. Then he disappeared up the stairs to empty it into the sea, coming back to mop up the rest. "Lay back down Devon I haven't finished with your left shoulder." As if the words caused the pain itself, Devon went dizzy with the shock and thought he was going to heave again. But then the herbs settled in his bowls and his mind became groggy and he drifted into sleep.




The captain of the North Wind had offered his terms and explained in great length the details. He had even rearranged the demands to be more appeasable to the corsair prisoners. But in the end their minds were not swayed; they would stand true to their cause.

"Admirable!" Avershire said derisively. "Your sweet compassion and unbending devotion to a city-state such as Umbar, whose economy thrives on the pillage, plunder, and rape of other coastal towns and their merchant vessels is absolutely estimable." He gripped the rail of the Pora Diy's quarter deck. "But I am not hear to preach repentance or conversion! I have set forth my terms and thrice you have refused them choosing death for your pathetic cause over life under my captaincy."

Then Delf Pora spoke from his place to Avershire's left. "I for one do not die for the cause of Umbar under Doran but for the liberation of myself from Gondorian tyranny." Avershire whirled incredulously to face Delf Pora. "The corsair way is based on undeniable freedom! Our anarchy is kept organized by the captains who keep Umbar on her feet, who bring her what she needs and what she wants. Why should we cast out the fathers who have watched over us for these northern heathens who come with their papers and their documents and false promises for a better way of life? What is better to them? Morales?" Snickers scattered throughout the assembled corsairs and their spirits were enflamed by Pora's words. "My brothers let us be martyrs for the true way of life! Let us die together as an example that no corsair will be made weak to succumb to the captaincy of a Gondorian!" Wicked cheers erupted from the rousing crowd and Avershire's crew beat them into silence as the captains faced each other.

"You're false, Pora! You are too afraid to die alone. The words you spoke in my cabin were words of protocol and lies. I have no compassion for a crew of demons captained by their wicked idol!" Then he turned so that all the assembled could hear what he had to say. "They who fight together against us, will sink together by our hand! Lock them in the hold!"




What supplies and provisions that could be used to replenish and repair the North Wind had been secured by Avershire's crew. Positioned fifty yards away from the Pora Diy, the North Wind's remaining catapults and the ones salvaged from the pirate ship were lined up on her starboard side, loaded and prepared to fire. The damage done during the battle was sufficient enough to render the ship irreparable but it would take a couple more good hits to sink her. The twines snapped and the hits were true. Avershire stood on board and watched as the Pora Diy sighed beneath the surface of the sea and descended to her death, the muffled cries of 'Umbar! Umbar!' fading into the afternoon.